


Nice Shirt

by astrangerenters



Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: Bathroom Sex, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-29
Updated: 2011-07-29
Packaged: 2017-10-21 22:25:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/230526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrangerenters/pseuds/astrangerenters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Becky likes wearing Aiba's clothes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nice Shirt

She waits patiently for him to get out of the shower. Well, as patient as she can be. What they have is something Becky never expected, pretty much feared, and actually enjoys now that she gave in to her feelings.

He hums Arashi songs, and she can hear his voice echoing off the tile. She can smell him all around her, on the long sleeves and inside the collar of the shirt she's wearing. It fits her a lot differently than it fits him - her mother calls her compact while Aiba's long-limbed and tall. The shirt that would fall to his hips nearly reaches her knees, but she suspects that he'll like it.

The shower turns off, and she sees his arm pop out from behind the curtain in search of his towel rack, fumbling to find it. It surprises her - she always thought a guy like Aiba-kun would just pop out of the shower with no shame. Maybe he actually remembers she's still here. He's got the towel around his waist when he sets his foot out of the tub, mouth dropping open a bit to see her sitting on the sink counter.

She grins when he hurriedly grabs the towel after nearly dropping it. "Good morning."

"Good morning," he says with a leer that she might have found creepy a few years back, but now knows it's okay when it's directed her way. She can already see a bit of movement under his towel. She's a welcome surprise. "You're wearing my shirt."

She tilts her head, drifting her fingers down to the top button. "Is that a problem? Can't I share your clothes?"

He leaves the bathmat, wet feet squeaking across the tile until he's in her space. She loves the way beads of water are dripping down from his hair, running down his face. He smells fresh and clean and like the bottle of rather girly shampoo she left behind last time. It seems that he likes to share her things too. She licks her lips as she watches the droplets sliding down his shoulders, down his one side with his large, colorful birthmark.

"You need a shower?" he asks quietly, securing the towel and resting a hand on either side of her hips. She can feel the soft cotton grazing against her bare legs, knowing it's the only barrier between himself and her.

"Eventually." She leans up to kiss the corner of his mouth, moisture tickling her lips. Becky's sure to lean back as soon as he tries to reciprocate.

He grunts a bit at her rudeness, bringing his right palm beneath the shirt to her thigh, drumming his fingertips against her skin. "So then, Becky-chan. You've got on my shirt."

"I do."

His fingers slide upward a bit, and his eyes widen. "You've only got on my shirt."

"And they say you're the dumb one in Arashi."

"Oi," he protests with a smile. "I'm smarter than I look. Sometimes." He moves his hand away from her leg and cups her face, kissing her gently. It amazes her how sweet he can be. Until he slides his hand back and bunches her hair in his fist. "You didn't ask to wear my shirt."

"Aiba-kun," she says then, wrapping her legs around his waist, cotton and skin both warm. "Can I borrow your shirt?"

He thinks about it for a split second, fingers nervously threading through her hair. "Well, it does look a little big on you."

She leans forward to wrap her arms around his neck, laughing easily as she feels the water that hasn't been toweled off him start to soak a bit through the fabric. He embraces her in return. "Can you see me in the mirror?"

He nods, trailing his fingers up and down her spine, tickling her through the shirt. "I like you in my clothes."

She tilts her head to kiss his earlobe, hearing him giggle when she brings her lips to his earring. He shifts a bit, pushing forward so he can open his medicine cabinet behind her. In the bedroom drawer, in the kitchen cabinet, and in the bathroom medicine cabinet. Aiba-san is always prepared. She wonders where else he's got protection stashed and how often he has cause to use it.

She'd be jealous if she wasn't so busy laughing at the way he's trying to quietly open the condom wrapper behind her back. "I know what you're doing," she tells him, blowing gently in his ear.

He shudders a bit and allows her to tug on the towel so it drops to the tile. "You're in my shirt. You're like another me right now anyhow."

She sighs. "You're not imagining having sex with yourself, are you?"

He laughs, pressing himself against the inside of her leg. "You tell me."

"Your brain's a strange place," she manages to say before he crushes his mouth against hers. All she smells is the shampoo, her shampoo, in his damp hair.

"Is this okay?" he asks a few moments later, waiting for permission. He always seems to ask. Maybe he thinks he's going to break her in half. She's sturdier than she looks though, nodding her assent as he brings their bodies together. Her eyes shut as he moves, pulling her against him, filling her as slowly as he can manage.

She exhales against his skin, her breaths coming in quicker succession. Or maybe she's been breathing like this since she came into the bathroom in the first place. When she opens her eyes, he's watching her, searching her face intently. "What?" she whispers.

He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "I just like you, that's all."

She feels her blush hit her from head to toe, and even with him inside her he can still embarrass her so easily. She leans her forehead against his and smiles. "This counter is cold, come on."

He doesn't need much further prompting as he rocks against her, his body still a bit damp as she holds him close. Or maybe he's sweating. It doesn't take much for Aiba to perspire, but she doesn't mind in situations like these. He surprises her by taking it slow, making time to kiss her, part her lips with his tongue. She can almost sense him thinking himself clever or a genius when he slips his hand between their bodies to find her clit with his thumb. He's learned her body well, rubbing in methodical circles as he continues to move within her. His pace slows, growing lazier as her breathing grows heavier, and she starts to shake a bit.

But he doesn't stop touching her, and if her eyes were open, she knows he'd be watching. Getting her off only turned him on more. She clings to him, unable to focus on anything but the steady, building sensation, arching her body as much as she can to feel more. And then, only then does he sense a need to speed up. It feels like a shower of sparks as she comes, gasping as her body contracts around him. "Becky," he whispers almost frantically then, forgetting his earlier slowness.

He thrusts up and into her as she tries to remember how breathing works, and her legs tighten around him. The sparks are settling into a hazy prickling as he comes wordlessly moments later, dragging his mouth along her jaw. He stands there a few seconds longer before she hears his breathy laughter.

She takes a deep breath, opening her eyes to meet his. She expects that they're both looking a little tired, but happy. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing," he says. "Everything. I don't know." He kisses her gently and pulls away. "You know, I'm probably going to need another shower."

She makes sure he's watching as her shaky fingers pop open the buttons of the shirt. His shirt.

"Mind if I join you?"


End file.
